


Unexpected Pilots

by Arcane_Student



Category: Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, This story has OCs, as in, the primary cast will all be OCs, you’ve been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-19 02:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcane_Student/pseuds/Arcane_Student
Summary: Pilots. A force of nature on the battlefield, linked to their mighty Titans. But, what if some of those Pilots didn’t fit the expected mold?





	1. Northstar

"Becca? Becca!"

 

She just rolled her eyes and continued her work with the wrench.

 

"Rebecca Sanders! Where are you?"

 

Letting out a long sigh, Becca dropped her tools down on the workbench in front of her. Placing her hands onto the wheels of her chair, she turned and made her way out of the hangar. As she came to the open doors, she shouted behind her. "Hey Polaris, c'mon! Let's see what Dad needs."

 

The sound of pistons and hydraulics responded, and shortly after a Titan followed behind her. *After you, Rebecca.*

 

The unusual pair made their way over to the small home near the hangar. While the Titan could easily have over taken the young woman in her wheelchair, it maintained a respectful distance behind her instead. When they got to the house, Becca proceeded to roll inside, while the Titan simply took a knee nearby.

 

"Yeah Dad, what's up?" Moving into the living room, she had to stop herself at the sight before her. Her father was seated on a chair, and across from him was another individual, dressed in a Pilot's uniform, helmet resting on their knee. Becca didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Who the hell are you?"

 

The woman before her raised her eyebrows at the curt greeting. "Well, I see that the attitude is at least genetic."

 

Her father sighed at the conclusion. "I do apologize for that." Turning to his daughter, he gestured to their visitor. "Becca, this is Commander Sarah Briggs, of the Marauder Corps. Sarah, my daughter Rebecca Sanders."

 

Becca narrowed her eyes at the Commander. "So, you're one of the big wigs with the Militia, huh?" Getting a nod in response, she quickly turned her chair around, heading for the exit.

 

"Becca, wait!" Her father got up from his chair, heading for the exit his daughter had gone through. By the time he reached it, it was to see a retreating form of a Titan. Sighing again to himself, he turned back to his guest. "I'm sorry about that. She never forgave her mother for, well..."

 

Briggs got to her feet and made her way out. "It's alright." Placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder, she walked past him. "I can't forgive myself either, for all the lives broken." And with that, she made to pursue Becca.

 

-x-X-x- 

 

Becca turned the helmet over in her hands. 'It's been four years since then.' She kept her gaze wandering over the landscape around her. She and her father lived out on top of a mesa, so she was able to see a pretty far distance. The day had been rather still, so it wasn't a surprise when she heard steps behind her. Glancing back, she was met with the sight of the Commander. "So, not done with the cripple girl?"

 

Briggs paused at the words. Keeping her distance, she decided to speak. "I did have some questions about that, yes. How'd you get put in that wheelchair?"

 

Becca turned around, making eye contact, before lowering her gaze to the helmet in her lap. "Four years ago, I was just another girl, living with another family out on the frontier. No special resources, so the IMC left our planet alone, for the most part. Dad's an engineer, and Mom turned out to be a pretty decent Pilot. So she joined up with the Militia. Trying to keep the fight away from home."

 

She paused for a moment, making sure to maintain her composure. "And then, one day, the war did come home. IMC found out that a few Pilots made their home on a single planet that was mostly ignored, and decided to see if they could catch them unawares. And they did. By God, they did."

 

Briggs knew the reports already, she had read them over before traveling out here. But it was always different hearing them in person.

 

Becca didn't bother hiding the tears that began to fall. "First round of mortars tore through our house. Wreckage crushed my legs, pinned under what had been the roof. Mom came to try and dig me out, had PL help move what she couldn't. And that was the only chance they needed." Brow wrinkled in fury, Becca stared straight at Briggs. "A still Pilot is a dead one. And while my Mom tried to dig me out of the rubble, one of their soldiers put a round through her chest. She died trying to save me!"

 

Sobs threatened to bubble up her throat, but Becca swallowed them down. "In her last moments, she told PL to get me to safety. Took her helmet and gave it to me. Told us to both get out of there." Her voice became quiet. "We never recovered the body."

 

Briggs drew a little closer to the young woman. "I am so sorry for your loss. No one should have to suffer they way you did." Taking a knee, Briggs kept an even tone. "What if I told you that I've heard of a gifted Pilot around here? And that there was a chance for them to help us out, to make sure others need not suffer themselves?"

 

Wiping her eyes and sniffling a bit, Becca looked at the Commander. "I think you'd be a bit desperate to ask a cripple for help."

 

Briggs smirked at that. "Well, I knew your mother, and if you have half the fire she did, then I doubt those" she pointed at Becca's legs, "will stop you."

 

Looking down at the helmet in her lap, and back up at the Commander, Becca seemed to come to a decision. She took the helmet and put it on, turning her gaze back Briggs. "Tell you what. If you can catch me, I'll hear what you have to say."

 

Briggs looked a bit nonplussed at the challenge. "I'm sorry Rebecca, but that doesn't seem too difficult to catch someone who can't walk, much less run."

 

Briggs could almost hear the smirk behind the visor. "Don't worry about not walking." At this, she put her hands on her wheels. "I learned how to fly."

 

And with that, she wheeled herself off of the mesa's edge.

 

Briggs had a moment of sheer panic, until she heard the dull roar of engines. Hurrying over to look past the edge, she saw the Titan from earlier rise up, it's hatch open to show Becca seated inside. The young woman nodded at her. "Let's see what you have, Commander!" And with that, the hatch closed, and the Titan flew off towards the horizon.

 

Briggs couldn't help a chuckle. "Oh yeah. Definitely like her mother."


	2. Tone

The sound of chalk across a blackboard was prominent in the room. The person writing with it was clearly practiced in their routine.

 

"And so you see class, while the standard gravitational pull of most Terra-Class planets is 9.8 meters per second squared, plenty of planets in the Frontier have gravity which is greater or lesser than that. This makes travel, not to mention day to day life, more complicated than it already is."

 

Near the back of the room, two of the students began to whisper to each other, hoping to remain unnoticed.

 

"Miss Stark, Mister Potts, while I am sure your plans to borrow the Crane Class jumpship from one of your parents is thrilling, I'd ask you please wait until after class is over."

 

Suffice to say, they were unsuccessful.

 

Their classmates had a good chuckle at their expense, while their teacher continued towrite at the front of the room. A light ringing sounded, and the group began to gather their belongings. Turning from his work, the teacher at the front spoke up. "All right class, I expect that report on differential gravitational pull to be in one week from today, and no, extensions will not be given. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them."

 

The room quickly cleared out, save for the teacher. He felt around his work space, gathering his materials into a satchel, before picking up a white cane with a red tip that had been leaning on the wall. Making his way out, he locked the door and lead his way with the cane.

 

As he exited the building and made his way across the grounds, he was met by the sound of loud footfalls. Grinning slightly, he didn't even turn to the sound. "It's good to see you Echo."

 

The Tone-Class Titan that had approached stopped beside him. *Good afternoon William. Did you regain your eyesight?*

 

Chuckling, the man finally turned to the war machine. "It's just an expression, Echo. I'm sure you would have learned that by now."

 

*I understand, William. I am simply trying to practice my ability to have a conversation.*

 

Nodding his head, he turned a smile towards the Titan. "It's appreciated, Echo. C'mon, best to head back home for the night."

 

The pair resumed their walk, not in any rush. After a short distance, Echo spoke up. *William, I'm detecting a foreign biorhythm in your living quarters. Shall I investigate further?*

 

William held up a hand. "No, let me. If I need you, I'll signal."

 

The Titan seemed to accept this. *Very well.*

 

Approaching his small apartment, William noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he detected traces of gunpowder residue and the smell of a small propulsion device, as well as traces of... nothing else. 'Well, I guess I know my mystery guest.'

 

Pushing the door aside, he stepped into the small space. "Gates, what are you doing here?"

 

Coming around the corner, the helmeted Pilot shook her head. "How could you tell it was me?"

 

William gave a small smile. "Pilots typically smell of their jump kits and firearms, but you're one of the only ones I've met that has no other scent than that. That, and no one else was told my address."

 

Letting out a short laugh, Gates patted the man on the shoulder. "It's good to see your wits haven't dulled any. Keeping busy?"

 

The man moved past her to take a seat at his dining table. "For the most part. IMC doesn't seem interested in coming out this far, though they may change their mind once they learn we operate a training facility for starship pilots out here. And you?"

 

Gates leaned against the wall nearby. "Still fighting to keep the Frontier free. The 6-4 has plenty to do, in that regard. Actually, it's part of the reason I'm here."

 

William raises an eyebrow at that. "Gates, you know I can't go back into the field. Kinda difficult to run around on walls when I can't even see them properly. Or at all."

 

Gates shrugged her shoulders. "Actually, I'm sure you'd be fine, based on what I've heard. After all, there seems to be a mysterious Titan that wanders around out here, keeping raider groups away."Seeing his neutral expression, Gates continued. "I'm not her to drag you back into the fight, William. Myself and a few others have been trying to start a new unit up, and they could use someone to keep them in line. Interested?"

 

Letting out a sigh, William rubbed at his brow. "You know I retired to get away from combat missions, Gates. I definitely can't see myself leading a group into combat."

 

Gates shook her head again. "This isn't a combat unit. They'd be more specialized, strictly civilian support missions. If all goes to plan, they'd never be in a fight."

 

Rubbing his temples a bit, William was silent for a few moments, before turning his head towards Gates. "What do you have in mind?"

 

-x-X-x- 

 

A couple of hours later, Gates had left, while William and Echo were well outside the town limits. Rolling his shoulders a bit, William gestured towards his Titan. "Echo, the Kraber please?"

 

The Titan opened up its cockpit, pulling out a rifle and a helmet, handing them to William. Taking both, he put the helmet on his head while dropping down on one knee. Bringing the rifle up the his shoulder, William steadied himself. "Echo, synchronize and launch sonar pulse."

 

William felt his mind link with Echo's, shortly after heard the pulse launched as well. Through the Titan's eye, he was able to 'see' the world, outlined in the cascading ripples of sound. Taking a steadying breath, he sought out the targets they had both placed an hour ago. Lining up the first one, he pulled the trigger.

 

*CRACK*

 

Not waiting for a confirmation, he turned to the next target, and then the next. Quickly emptying his magazine, he waited for Echo's report.

 

*Four confirmed hits, each within 1.3 millimeters of the target's center.*

 

Breathing easy again, William stood back up, relaxing his hold on the rifle. "Well Echo, it looks like we're going to be headed to a new school."


	3. Scorch

The man made a number of gestures to the lumbering Titan beside him. In response, the Titan lifted the steel beam up, fitting into a number of supports already in place. The man then walked along the length of the arm, kneeling down and taking a welding torch, fixing the beam into place. His goggles reflected the sparks, while a scarf covered his face and neck.

 

The pair continued like this for the next few minutes, Titan moving pieces, man welding them to stay secure. No spoken words were said, or needed.

 

After attaching the last of the crossbeams, the man took a moment to wipe his brow before patting the Titan's arm. In turn, the Titan moved away from their project, lowering the man to the ground. Taking off the goggles and lowering the scarf to just his neck, The man and machine started to walk away, but they were flagged down by another.

 

"Hey, Jacob, VL!"

 

Turning to the one getting their attention, they saw the foreman of the construction efforts. As one, they made their way over.

 

The foreman gave them a smile. "Thank you both for all the work you've been doing. I have no idea how long it'd take us if you two hadn't shown up."

 

Jacob began to make a number of gestures with his hands. In response, the Titan began to speak. *No reason to thank us. The pay is good, and you all seem like honest folks.*

 

The foreman nodded in response. "Still, we weren't slated to get done with this much work until next week. Seriously, if you ever need a more permanent arrangement, let me know, okay?"

 

Jacob and VL responded in their unique manner. *Thank you for the offer, but what you're giving us right now is more than enough.* With that, Jacob gave the foreman a handshake, and the odd pair made their way to their home.

 

Admittedly, their "home" wasn't much to behold. A simple tent large enough for Jacob, and a number of tarps strung up to provide shelter for a small cooking area and to give VL some protection from the elements. The two started into a routine, VL placing some logs in a fire pit and lighting them with his hand, while Jacob stowed away his welding equipment.

 

A couple of hours later found Jacob cleaning his dinner dishes while VL idly looked over their surroundings. Jacob took note when VL suddenly went a little ridged. Arching an eyebrow at the Titan, he received a finger pointing at the horizon as a response.

 

Looking in the indicated direction, Jacob saw a ship making its way towards them. Turning to look at VL, the Titan seemed to know what he wanted. *Crow Class ship, data log indicates this vessel is not affiliated with the IMC.*

 

Arching an eyebrow, Jacob gave VL a thumbs up, before turning his attention back to the incoming ship. A few moments later saw it landing a short distance away, the wake of its engines threatening to flip over the tent and tarps. He couldn't help the annoyed sigh that left his lips, wondering who was responsible for upsetting his home.

 

He soon received his answer, as a man in an olive jumpsuit made his way towards them. Jacob recognized the pilot from various wanted posters.

 

"Son, you are not an easy man to find."

 

Jacob began to sign at him in response. *And to what do I owe the presence of one of the IMC's most wanted men?* VL translated.

 

This seemed to startle their guest. "Wait, I know I'm mostly sober right now. Who's talking? The man, or the machine?"

 

Jacob slapped a hand to his forehead, before continuing to sign, VL speaking. *I'm the one who is speaking, my Titan acts as my translator. So, what do you *BEEP*-ing want?*

 

The man in the jumpsuit blinked in surprise, before laughing out loud. "Wait, is your Titan censored? That's hilarious!"

 

Jacob rubbed the bridge of his nose while shutting his eyes, while VL spoke on his own. *I felt it necessary to download language software to better serve my Pilot. However, the only available programming was designed for children. As such, my language is censored to protect younger listeners, Officer Taube.*

 

The visitor caught his breath before continuing. "So, you do know who I am?"

 

VL replied first. *Officer Robert Taube, former Pilot of the IMC, with a 50,000 credit bounty on your head for violent crimes against IMC facilities.* Jacob made a gesture. *And a drunk.*

 

His face lost some of its humor hearing this. "I go by Barker these days. And I know something of both of you." Taking a flask out of a pocket, Barker gestured at the pair. "Pilot Jacob Guntherson and VL-2130, charged with abandoning your post and the massacre of a civilian outpost, with a bounty of 35,000 credits." Taking a swig from the flask, Barker shot them a look. "How'd I do?"

 

At this, Jacob became livid, his face growing red, hands flying wildly. VL spoke with greater speed. *We did no such thing. The IMC ordered us to remove any resistance so they could establish a mining operation. When we dropped in, we found a defenseless town filled with civilians. And I spoke out against our operation.* At this, Jacob tore off his scarf, revealing an ugly scar across his neck. *My CO decided I had outlived my usefulness, said 'we can't have anyone speaking out', so he cut my throat and left me to die.* Jacob's face lost most of its fire. *As I lay there bleeding, I saw the rest of my squad raze the town to the ground. It still haunts me every night.*

 

Barker didn't know what to say in reply. Instead, he offered the flask in his hand. Jacob took it, gulping a long moment before breathing out and returning it. Barker took it before continuing. "How did you make it out?"

 

Jacob simply pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the Titan behind him. VL spoke up. *When the Titans were deployed, we went for our Pilots. I found Pilot Jacob on the ground, and engaged Protocol 3. Deeming he required immediate medical assistance, I attempted to cauterize his wound, before taking him from the outpost. I determined that only one of the IMC soldiers could have injured him, and we fled.* VL looked down. *I unfortunately caused further damage to his vocal cords in the process.*

 

Jacob looked at the Titan, making a quick pinching motion with three fingers. Barker looked on. "What'd he say?"

 

*He's telling me to stop apologizing.*

 

Barker mulled over everything he just heard. Coming to a conclusion, heput his flask away. "Well, you sound just like the type of people we've been looking for. Myself and a few compatriots are putting a new unit. How would you like to save some lives instead of taking them?"

 

Jacob and VL shared a look, before Jacob turned back to Barker, making a rotating motion with one finger. Barker didn't need a translator to know he got them interested.


	4. Legion

"Blackbird 5-2, in pursuit of target."

 

Barker looked through the viewport of the cockpit, keeping an eye on his objective. He and his people had been pursuing a renegade Titan for the last 10 kilometers. They had a drop into a populated area to try and protect the civilians, when one of their Legion Titans went rogue and started running away.

 

After clearing out the Remnant Fleet forces, he and a couple others went to find out why a war machine had dashed away. Or stomped away. Legions don't exactly move fast.

 

Luckily, it seemed like the Titan had started to slow down. Barker started his descent. "Blackbird 5-1, 5-3, begin your descent, form a perimeter around the target. I want to end this without anymore violence. MK-0509 is one of ours, and I want to bring him home."

 

The other ships followed his instructions, and shortly found themselves landed in a triangle around the rogue Titan. Barker was the first to approach the machine. "Hey, MK, stand down!"

 

MK responded by turning their Predator Cannon on him.

 

Barker immediately threw his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there MK, it's just me, remember? You're a member of the Aces, right?"

 

MK seemed to hesitate. *Barker is not affiliated with the IMC? Barker is an ally?*

 

He took a few steps forward. "Yeah buddy, I am. Now, how about you just go ahead and open up. Let us check on your Pilot?"

 

MK's eyelights swiveled around a bit, before finally settling down on one knee, placing the cannon to the side. With a few clicks, the hatch opened up to reveal...

 

"A kid?" Barker almost wished he was drunk right now. Sitting in the Legion's chassis was a young child, knees drawn to their chest and helmet sitting loosely on their head.

 

Barker heard a faint voice come from the hunched form. "Are you the good guys?" And then promptly fainted.

 

The ex-IMC officer started forward. 'What have I walked into this time?'

 

-x-X-x-

 

A couple hours later, Barker and his Aces had set up a temporary operating base on the edges of the settlement they had come in to help. Most of his people had gone about salvaging useful tech, while others made sure the civilians were alright, offering transportation off planet if needed.

 

And their unexpected guest? Well, they had a medical tent set up, in which the kid was being treated. MK was acting as a sentry, and had only barely been convinced to let the doctors look at the kid, to see if they were injured.

 

Letting a breath out through his nose, Barker made his way over to the tent. On entering, he saw the kid laid out on a stretcher, a machine next to them reading their vitals. Kid turned out to be a girl, only about nine or ten years old, judging from their size. Grabbing a chair, Barker brought it next to her, deciding to wait for them to wake up.

 

He didn't need to wait long. After a few minutes, the kid began to stir, and suddenly, their eyes snapped open. Sitting up straight, she turned to see Barker, and immediately yelped, tumbling out of the stretcher.

 

Barker's only response to the commotion was raising an eyebrow at the kid. Taking a moment, he decided to talk to her. "So, how're you feeling?"

 

The kid got to their knees, looking cautiously at the older man. She looked around the tent, taking in all the details, before finally looking back at Barker and responding. "Where am I?"

 

"Just outside your town. My people came in and pushed those bad soldiers out." The girl seemed to accept this, settling to sit on the floor. "You know where your parents are kid?"

 

At this question, the girl began to tear up. "My parents are dead." Wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, she continued. "The died in a battle a few years back. I was living with my gran. But she was killed too."

 

Barker dropped his gaze to the floor for the moment. He never liked these emotional scenes. However, he did have another question. "How did you wind up in MK?"

 

The girl played with the hem of her shirt. "When the shooting started, I grabbed my pa's old helmet, and started running. Tried to find my gran. Saw some soldiers shoot her. So I kept running. Came to the robot. It was standing. Looked strong. So I crawled inside. Put pa's helmet on. Made me feel safe. But then my head hurt. And I felt someone in my head. Felt scared. And then the robot started running."

 

Barker nodded at her story. Before he had come in, he'd received a casualties report. Apparently Captain Jessop, MK's Pilot, had been killed in the skirmish. Still curious that the Titan linked with the kid. He couldn't imagine how the neural link would affect her, Pilots trained rigorously to handle the partnering of minds. Thinking of the project he and a few others were working on, he turned back to the girl.

 

"My name is Barker. What's yours?"

 

The girl seemed to hesitate before voicing her response. "Naomi. Naomi Dens."

 

He reached out a hand to her, offering a handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Naomi Dens."

 

Slowly, Naomi accepted the handshake. Grinning, Barker drew his hand back. "What if I told you I could find a place for you to be safe?"

 

Naomi played a bit more with the hem of her shirt, looking towards the ground. And then, she nodded.


	5. Ion

Amy fiddled some with the cuffs around her wrists. She had to admit, these Militia had a pretty decent set up for holding prisoners. Shackled to a table. Feet chained to the floor. They had managed to confiscate her jump kit, helmet, and even found her spare lockpicks. If she wasn't so annoyed at getting caught, she'd be impressed.

 

"Hello? Helloooooo? Anyone out there? I'm getting hungry."

 

Silence was her only response. She went from looking at the door, to looking at the security camera perched in the corner of the ceiling. "I'll take a jar of peanut butter and a package of snickerdoodles, thanks."

 

Again silence dominated the space. The feeling of frustration at being caught soon was replaced by the feeling of boredom. She'd already counted all the cracks in the walls and ceiling (32), sung the alphabet in 4 different languages (including binary), and recited the manual for proper care of a Wingman Revolver (backwards).

 

She was trying to scratch her back when the door clicked and swung open, revealing a woman in Militia uniform. The woman walked into the room, data pad in hand, and shut the door behind her, taking the seat across Amy.

 

"Amanda Cofield, I am Commander Briggs, of the Marauder Corps. Do you know why you're being detained here?"

 

Amy lowered her head into her hands. "Oh, I know who you are Briggs. I try to know all the big important types out in the Frontier. As for why I'm stuck here? Probably because I've been a bad girl."

 

Briggs just continued to look at her prisoner. "Calling yourself a 'bad girl' seems to be an understatement." Picking up the data pad, Briggs began scrolling through. "It seems the IMC has quite the interest in you. Theft, blackmail, sabotage, vandalism, destruction of property, the list goes on. You have a bounty on your head almost as big as my own."

 

Amy blew out a raspberry. "What a rip off. I do all this work on my own, and I still don't have the top bounty from the Remnant Fleet."

 

Briggs set the pad down on the table. "I have to admit, I'm quite impressed by what you've accomplished. It would take me a full squad to accomplish some of the thing's you've done alone."

 

"Ha!" Amy's laugh echoed in the confined space. "That's because you rely on an entire squad. It's easier to move quiet when you're alone."

 

Briggs leaned forward at this. "What I really want to know is why. Why are you so intent on targeting the Remnant Fleet? What did the IMC do to you?" Briggs saw Amy's face grow stony, so she continued. "I know you've never targeted Militia resources, otherwise we'd have noticed you sooner."

 

Fighting the urge to grit her teeth, Amy just stared at the Commander. "That's between me, and the IMC." Leaning back in her chair, she allowed a smirk on her features. "Besides, my partner will be here soon enough. It's a shame, I never wanted to cross you guys. You actually seem to care about people."

 

Briggs crossed her arms, leaning back herself. "Your partner, huh?" Reaching into a pocket on her vest, she pulled a cylindrical object out, placing it on the table.

 

Amy couldn't help the look of shock on her features. Sitting on the table in front of her was Bee's data core. She tried to snatch at it, but the cuffs stopped her from reaching.

 

Seeing this distress, Briggs decided to continue. "We caught an Ion-Class Titan trying to get through our facility. Used its Laser Core to drill through the battlements. Did its best to avoid harming any of my soldiers though. Found that part curious. So we used an EMP, and stunned it long enough to remove its data core." Briggs tapped the table next to the object. "Now, how did you come to possess a Titan? That's a story I'd love to hear."

 

Briggs saw that Amy was both too distressed and too angry to form a decent reply. So, to show some good faith, she gently pushed the core across the table, into Amy's waiting hands. The woman quickly grabbed it, turning it over, inspecting it for damage. Finding none, she seemed to settle.

 

After a few calming breaths, the outlaw spoke up. "It wasn't too hard. Remnant Fleet has a few production facilities throughout the Frontier, manufacturing their troops. Stealing a linked Titan is damn near impossible. But if you manage to bind to a Titan while its brand new? Then it becomes loyal to you. Grabbed BB's core off a production facility, and hijacked the chassis while it was in transit."

 

Briggs seemed to think this over before coming up with a response. "Why a Titan though? Why not a person?"

 

Amy tried to shrug nonchalantly. "Protocol 3. Makes them more loyal than a person ever could be. And they think a lot faster than most people." At this she chuckled to herself. "Doesn't hurt when they can shoot lasers from their eye."

 

"So, if you had a Titan, why didn't you fight back more? An Ion can cause a lot of damage, especially with a skilled Pilot."

 

Amy blew some hair out of her face. "IMC gets really angry if you get violent. I'm sure you've noticed. But if a crate goes missing here or there, or an engine suddenly doesn't fire, commanding officers try to hide it so the higher ups don't notice. And you can get a really big crate if you stand 20 feet tall."

 

The Commander let all of this sink in before she made her decision. Walking over to the door, she knocked hard on it. It opened, and the person on the other side handed her a couple items. Briggs made her way back to the table, setting the unmarked objects down. "What if I told you there is an opportunity for you to help a lot of people, and pester the IMC at the same time, with no violence?"

 

Amy quirked an eyebrow. "I'd say it'd be difficult to do while chained to a table."

 

Briggs produced a key from her pocket, and walked around the table, undoing Amy's cuffs. Rubbing her wrists, she watched as Briggs went back to her own seat, the older woman pushing the two items across the table. Amy put BB's core down, and looked to find that the items were a package of cookies and a jar of peanut butter.

 

"Huh." Amy looked at the Militia officer. "Alright Briggs. You've got my attention."


	6. Ronin

"Dr. Whitaker? Here's the results you requested."

 

Dr. Whitaker looked over his shoulder to see the nurse standing behind him. Taking the offered clipboard, he pages through the results. "Hm. Respiration rate is nominal, temperature within accepted range, oxygen concentration is fine, and blood pressure is... 175 over 96?" He handed back the clipboard. "Set them up with a prescription of warfarin sodium, at 4 milligrams a day for a week, with instructions to come back for a follow up."

 

"Yes Doctor." And with that the nurse went back to their business, and the doctor to his.

 

Today had been a busy enough day. This little colony world wasn't one people had been fighting on recently, but there was plenty of fighting within this particular system. And the colony were Militia sympathizers. Which meant wounded Militia soldiers were brought here for care. Which also meant possibility of IMC attack. Which, in turn, meant little sleep for the medical staff here.

 

And so Dr. Whitaker was making his way over to the small staff kitchen of the medical center, with hope he could find a proper cup of coffee. Or tea. Really anything to stay awake. He was on hour 14 of a 12 hour shift.

 

"Full alert, incoming transport. Injured soldiers and vital resources. All available hands report."

 

Dr. Whitaker lightly hit his head against the cupboard. Looks like a drink will have to wait. As he exited the building, he shouted off to the side. "RN, supplies incoming!"

 

A lean Titan made its way over, coming even with the walking doctor. *Understood Jordan.*

 

The pair met up with a few other doctors and nurses. Soon enough, a large troop transport arrived, making its descent onto a landing pad. As soon as the doors started to open, the staff made their way forward, helping the soldiers move the wounded out while asking their condition. RN asked after the cargo bay, taking crates more delicately than their size would indicate. In just a few minutes, both patients and supplies were unloaded.

 

Dr. Whitaker found himself with a soldier who seemed to be having a hard time breathing. Looking down their throat, he could see that their throat had closed up, preventing them from breathing.

 

"Did the IMC come up with a new chemical weapon?" Turning to a nurse, he started making requests. "I need you to disinfect their throat for an emergency tracheotomy." While the nurse did this, he put on a pair of gloves, grabbing a scalpel off a tray. Seeing the nurse had prepped the patient, he cut a thin line, opening the trachea, into which disappeared a thin tube, which soon had a bandage wrapped around it.

 

"Alright, make sure you get some regular air flow going, and run his blood, we need to figure out what's in his system." As he was about to head to the next patient, another nurse came up to him.

 

"Sir, we have someone requesting you, said it was important."

 

"Did they give their name?"

 

"No sir."

 

"Are they actively dying?"

 

"No sir."

 

"Then they can wait."

 

The nurse gave a small smirk. "Yes sir."

 

The doctor then turned to the remaining patients. "Alright, who's next?"

 

-x-X-x-

 

Three hours later, and Dr. Whitaker was finally making his way to exit the building. He had seen three more soldiers, and one required compressions for more than 30 minutes before they finally got his heart to beat on its own.

 

As he left, he heard a voice to the side. "I was wondering if you'd ever come out of there."

 

He turned to see a figure in full Pilot armor. While it was largely nondescript, he was able to recognize the voice. "Gates of the 6-4, I presume?"

 

She nodded in response. "You remember me?"

 

"Hard not to. Most commanding officers I meet don't care much for their people. Rare to see one cause a fuss. Even more rare to see a commander personally bringing their people in for care."

 

"The 6-4 is more than a unit, we're a family."

 

"And you'll kick arse. So I've heard." Dr. Whitaker walked off to the side, pulling a pack of gum out of his pocket.

 

Gates found this a bit curious. "Figured overworked Doctor types like you would be smoking or some such."

 

The doctor let out a small snort. "I used to. Husband told me it was a bad habit, said I should quit."

 

"Sounds like a wise man."

 

"He was."

 

"Was?"

 

"Was. Died during a skirmish, trying to get a family to safety."

 

"I'm sorry for your loss."

 

"Everyone is when they hear it." Gates finally popped a piece of gum into his mouth, and started chewing. After a few moments, he turned to Gates. "So what do you want? I doubt you came out here just for a talk."

 

Gates looked him in the eye. Or he thinks she did. Hard to tell with the helmet. "My associates and I are starting a new division. Specializing in helping people before they get hurt. They could use someone of your expertise."

 

"Plenty of doctors out there to find."

 

"But you're the only one who has expertise in medicine both on and off a battlefield, as well as experience piloting a Titan. So, what do you say? Want to provide an ounce of help instead of a pound of cure?"

 

Dr. Whitaker looked up at the sky, the stars starting to appear. Looking back at Gates, he had his answer. "Where do you need me?"


	7. Monarch

"War! Huh! Yeah! What is it good for? Absolutely nothin'!" Riley proceeded to play out the beat of the song on her steering wheel.

 

She was convinced that today was going to be a good day. There had been a recent skirmish near the Garage, which meant salvage. IMC, Militia, the various smaller factions, they all had their reasons. But that meant they came to blows. And in the wreckage left behind, people like her made a living.

 

Sure, plenty of others looked down on her. Called her a vulture. Said it was disrespectful to the dead. But she didn't care. They were dead, beyond such concerns. Besides, it's not like she scavenged in human body parts (though some truly ghoulish scavvers did). Nope, just tech and equipment. Using what she could. Selling off the rest in the Black Market. Making it day to day.

 

As she crested the last hill, she stopped her truck. It was clear to Riley that this had been a big one. Craters pock marked the ground, a few buildings had collapsed, and destroyed bits of machinery was scattered about. She saw mangled remains of a few Stalkers, a couple Reapers, even a Titan or two.

 

It was the Titans that immediately got her attention. Still working parts fetched a high price on the market. Of course, they had to be working. Plenty of Pilots would eject, leaving their Titans to get wrecked. A few would even leave them modified to carry miniature nukes! Always made her job harder.

 

Making her way to the first Titan chassis, she saw it was an Ion-Class. Slipping a tool kit off of her shoulder, she immediately looked over it for parts. The legs look like they'd been melted by a Scorch, and the cockpit caved in. The arms and shoulders were still intact though.

 

Looking over the shoulder mounted laser, she saw it was almost pristine. "Ah-ha, I do love good salvage!" Taking some tools, she spent the next few minutes disconnecting the weapon from the chassis. After completing it, she quickly returned it to her truck. Looking back at the battlefield, she couldn't help her smile. "Alright, what else do you beauties have for me?"

 

-x-X-x- 

 

It had been a pretty productive trip for Riley. Not only had she salvaged the laser attachment, but plating from both arms, most of a control module from a second Titan,cloaking tech from a stealth drone, and enough parts she could actually assemble a Stalker if she felt like it.

 

By the time she got back to the Garage, the sun was beginning to set. She looked happily upon her home. The Garage wasn't really a garage. It was a smaller troop transport ship she had gotten her hands on a few years prior. She'd tweaked and modified it over time, so that she had an entire workshop inside, and could even cloak it if needed. Mind you, the cloak only lasted a couple minutes, but that was more than enough time to make a getaway.

 

Clicking a button on her dashboard, the loading bay door opened, allowing her to drive right inside. Clicking it closed behind her, she stopped the truck and hopped out. "Honey, I'm home!"

 

A mechanical voice greeted her from the side. *It's good to have you back Riley.*

 

Riley gave a grin in the voices direction. A human sized robot made its way over. It had the appearance of a M.R.V.N. unit except, where the headpiece was, a modified slot where a Titan data core was put in place instead.

 

Riley circled around the back of her truck, opening the tailgate. "C'mon over, I have plenty of salvage. And I think we'll finally finish up your chassis today!"

 

The humanoid robot moved over and accepted the burden placed in its arms. Riley couldn't help but reminisce on how she first met Honey. It was during a scavenging run early in her career, when she came across a smashed Titan whose data core was still intact. At the time Honey was just HY-0237, and didn't much like her. But after plenty of arguments and experiences, they grew on each other, actually becoming friends.

 

Honey took the laser attachment and brought it over to a hulking form in one of the ships bays. There stood a Titan chassis, almost complete. Riley had purchased the blueprints for a Monarch off the Black Market, and had been following instructions from it for almost a year. But it had paid off. She only missed some armor plating, and the armament for the energy siphon. But that had been solved today.

 

She gave a wide grin to Honey. "Ready to get started?" Honey's chest monitor flashed a smiling face in response.

 

-x-X-x- 

 

Less than two hours later, Riley stood before the inert chassis, Honey's data core in her hand. "Alright, here goes nothing." Climbing up a ladder in front of the chassis, she inserted the data core. It clicked in place, and slowly the rest of the machine started to whir to life.

 

Riley quickly got off the ladder and stood in front of the behemoth. "Okay Honey, run a full system diagnostic."

 

The "eye" of the Titan slowly turned, looking around the space. Riley could see internal mechanisms shift and move as the diagnostics were run. Finally, Honey spoke up. *Diagnostic complete, all systems online and within acceptable operating parameters.*

 

The mechanic whooped in joy. "Alright, high five!" The Titan held out a hand, which Riley happily slapped. She hurried over to a workbench, quickly returning with a Pilot helmet. "Alright, final test!" 

 

Honey opened their chassis, into which Riley leapt. Taking a seat inside, Honey sealed back up. *Initiating link with Pilot.*

 

Riley saw a brilliant flash, and the world suddenly changed. She felt her body, but also felt a much larger body. Slower. More powerful. She also felt another mind brushing against hers. *Riley? Are you alright?* Honey's words were directly in her brain.

 

"Yeah Honey, yeah, I'm alright." Riley let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, a small chuckle escaping her lips. It had worked. She couldn't believe it actually worked.

 

A small beep distracted her thoughts. In the corner of her helmet monitor, she saw she had received a message. Opening it, she read it out loud.

 

"Dear Riley,

This message is to inform you you have been chosen to participate in an experimental program to help the people of the frontier. As compensation, you will receive regular benefits and recompense, as well as salvage rights in any theater of operation in which you will be deployed. I hope to have your response soon.

  * Gates of the 6-4" 



 

Riley rolled the offer around in her head. While losing her operating independence and tying herself down to a faction wouldn't fit her style, a safe base of operations, pay, and exclusive rights to salvage was almost too good to pass up. Besides, if it became too much, she could always leave. And it's not like she opposed the Militia. She loved freedom!

 

“What do you think Honey?”

 

*I was originally deployed as a Militia Titan. It would be good to return to helping the people of the Frontier.*

 

Blowing a breath through her nose, Riley smirked. "Alright then. Let's go save the day!"


	8. The E.O.S.

"Standby for entry clearance."

 

Riley fought the urge to fidget in her seat. She was in the right location, right? She's pretty sure she was. Most military bases would've already shot her down by now. She really didn't want to be shot down.

 

"Pilot of, um, the Garage? You have clearance to land. Docking Bay C."

 

The mechanic blew out a breath, tilting the nose of her ship down and heading for the designated bay. After setting down, she shut down all non-necessary systems, and opened the primary exit ramp. "C'mon Honey."

 

In response, the Monarch Titan made its way out of the ship, following its Pilot. Riley quickly realized that she had no idea where she was supposed to go. After looking around aimlessly for a bit, she saw a M.R.V.N. unit waving towards them. Going over, she decided to ask. "Um, Riley and Honey? Gates invited us?"

 

The M.R.V.N. flashed a thumbs up on its monitor, turning away from them and starting to walk towards a large hangar. Riley gave a puzzled look towards Honey, before shrugging and following after the biped robot.

 

As they made their way inside, two things struck Riley. One, this was one of the best equipped maintenance bays she had ever set eyes on. Two, she was not the only one there. Almost all of the other Titan bays were occupied by other Titans, each unique. Ronin, Tone, Scorch, each of the unique Titan chassis she had seen was represented. Except Monarch. Well, Riley assumed that with Honey, Monarch was being represented.

 

But if those were the Titans, then were the people near them their Pilots? They certainly appeared to be a unique bunch. A girl in front of a Northstar looked to be in a wheelchair. And the man in front of the Ronin was wearing a lab coat? Wait... was that a kid? Sitting on top of a Legion!?

 

"If y'all could gather around please!"

 

Riley turned to face towards the voice. She spotted a group of three individuals standing near the back of the hangar. All three of them were easy enough to identify, if not by reputation, then by their wanted posters. Commander Sarah Briggs of the Marauders Corp. Barker of the Angel City Elites. Gates of the 6-4. Riley couldn't help but wonder what would bring these three together in one place.

 

The mechanic made her way over with Honey behind her, noting that the other potential Pilots did the same, each of their Titans following them. The only one who didn't walk was the kid, seemingly content with their perch. As they gathered, the group formed two semi-circles, first of Pilots, and then of Titans.

 

Briggs was the first one to speak up. "You're all probably wondering why you're here. I know each of you have been given a part of the story, but none of you yet have the full picture."

 

Gates then spoke. "The Militia continues to fight against the IMC and their Remnant Fleet every day, securing planets who seek their own independence and freedom. However, these battles are not without loss, not just to those fighting, but those who do not wish to fight."

 

Barker was next. "The cost in civilian lives is always too great in these conflicts. No one who chose not to fight should be dragged into the conflict. Yet constantly they are." At this, he gestured with his hands, and a holographic projection of the Frontier appeared. The planets were highlighted in reds, blues, and oranges. "Our enemy, the IMC, controls these planets here," he waved towards the red planets, "while Militia occupied planets are here." Indicating the blue planets.

 

Gates spoke up again. "But it is these planets," at this she indicated the orange ones remaining "that are most in peril. These are simple colony worlds, without a strong military presence at all. These are the people that most need our help."

 

Briggs took a turn. "On worlds with Militia presence, the troops can help the people. But on these other worlds, they have nobody. And it's these people that most need our help. But not from soldiers, or mercenaries. From you. Each and every one of you."

 

Barker spoke. "Each of you have a special talent or skill set." He gestured to each of them in turn. "Mechanic. Doctor. Architect. Tactics. Reconnaissance. Infiltration. You all have something to offer."

 

Briggs took a step forward. "You're not a team. Not yet. But one day soon, you will be. And when that day comes, you'll be able to go out and help those who most need it. From disasters, both natural and man made. That is why you have been welcomed to join this initiative. Welcome, to the Emergency Operation Services."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that’s the end of the story! I was inspired to write this because, after seeing how advanced the personalities of the Titans could be in TF2, I had a thought; what if a Titan could help like a service animal? Or translator? That’s where this story came from. 
> 
> I have ideas for a sequel to this story, though motivating myself is the hard part. Let me know what you think of this, and whether or not I should work towards a second part. Thanks for reading!


End file.
